


Piece of Cake

by platonic_boner



Category: Dark Matter (TV)
Genre: Crew as Family, Fluff, Gen, Raza Crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-14
Packaged: 2019-02-02 03:27:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12718689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/platonic_boner/pseuds/platonic_boner
Summary: No one has faith in Three's cooking skills.





	Piece of Cake

The Raza crew is eating breakfast together in the mess - Three trying to argue with Two over the “no guns on the table” rule, Five and Six laughing at Three - when Android appears to hover in the doorway.

“What’s up, Android?” Two asks.

“There is a matter I would like to discuss with all of you,” Android says.

“Is something wrong?” Two asks, frowning.

“No. Not precisely,” Android says. She comes into the mess to stand at the head of the table. “As you know, I recently discovered I was designed to have autonomy.”

Two nods.

“Free will,” Android says.

“Yes…” Two says. She glances around at the others to see if they know where Android is going with this. Five and Six both shrug, and Three looks incredulous that she thinks it’s possible he’d know anything.

Android continues, “I appreciate the efforts you have all made to treat me as an equal member of this crew.”

“Well, you _are_ an equal member of this crew,” Five says.

“Thank you, Five.”

“So, why bring all this up?” Two asks.

“I dislike cooking,” Android says.

Two blinks.

Three leans forward. “What’s that?”

“I don’t wish to continue doing all of the cooking,” Android clarifies.

Two glances around at the crew again, which is how she catches sight of Five - quiet, leaning slightly back from the table, with her index finger resting purposefully on the tip of her nose - clearly proclaiming “not it”.

With considerable effort, Two doesn’t burst out laughing. Instead, she also - slowly and sneakily - puts one finger on her nose.

Five grins at her and nudges Six.

“I contribute to running the ship in many other useful ways, and don’t believe it’s an unreasonable request,” Android says, ignoring their antics.

“All right. Then who’s gonna-” Three finally looks away from Android and takes in the rest of the crew. He’s speechless for a moment as he realizes what’s happened. Then, “That’s _really mature_ , guys.”

“I’m looking forward to tasting your cooking,” Six says.

“Can we have mac and cheese for dinner?” Five asks.

Three looks appealingly at Two.

“Don’t forget to make dessert,” Two says.

*

By about six that evening, Two’s wondering if she should regret this decision.

“I went by the mess again,” Five reports to her in a whisper, even though they’re on the bridge and Three is presumably not going to leave the kitchen when he’s got the stove on.

He knows that much, right?

“I heard some really loud crashing,” Five continues. “He was still swearing when it ended, though, so he’s definitely still alive and didn’t knock himself out or anything.”

“Oh, come on, he’s just _cooking_. It’s not dangerous,” Six says. “How hard can it really be?”

“That sounds like you’re volunteering for the job if Three doesn’t work out,” Two comments.

Two’s not cooking if she can help it.

“Nope,” Six says. “No.”

“It definitely sounded like volunteering to me,” Five says, clearly on the same page as Two.

Two grins at her.

*

An hour later, Two has an answer as to whether she should regret making Three cook: yes. Definitely yes.

She bursts into the kitchen, fire extinguisher in hand, and looks around. Despite the shipwide blaring alarms, the place looks fine. Not only are there no obvious flames, the kitchen is weirdly neat, and something smells _good_. Three’s standing in front of the stove wearing pink oven mitts and a bit of flour in his hair, and he looks perfectly calm amidst the alarms and Two’s sudden arrival.

“Relax,” he says. “I didn’t even burn anything.”

Two smirks. “Sure you didn’t.”

“I didn’t! The sensors must’ve picked up the heat when I opened the oven.”

The alarms switch off, leaving Two’s ears ringing and proving Three’s point. Satisfied Three hasn’t started a fire that will kill them all, Two sets down the fire extinguisher and moves into the kitchen to investigate whatever Three’s calling dinner.

On top of the oven, there’s a huge casserole dish filled with orange, gooey, breadcrumb-encrusted mac and cheese. 

Three waves it under her nose as he carries it out to the mess table. “Looks good, right?”

It looks delicious - although Two’s not ruling out the possibility that appearances could be deceiving.

“I suppose you didn’t consider making any vegetables?” Two asks, following him into the mess.

“Hey, there’s an onion in there. That’s a vegetable,” Three says, grinning.

Two shakes her head and flicks her comm on. “Dinner’s on the table, guys.”

“On my way,” Six says.

“Does it look edible?” Five asks.

“Hey, I _heard_ that,” Three says.

“It’s a valid question,” Five retorts.

“Keep insulting my cooking, and you won’t get dessert.”

“Depending on how good your cooking is, that might not be much of a threat,” Six says, entering the mess with Five and Android behind him.

“Sit down and shut up,” Three orders. “All of you.”

They sit and serve themselves - except Android, who passes the mac and cheese dish without taking any.

“You aren’t eating?” Six asks.

“I do not require nutritional sustenance, and I have 20 million taste receptors.”

“I think that translates to ‘no, because Three’s cooking probably sucks,’” Two says, not even trying to hide her smirk.

Three flips her off.

Five picks up her fork, but then waits with it hovering over her plate, watching Two. Two raises an eyebrow at her inquisitively.

“I’m waiting till you try it,” Five explains.

“Why do I have to be the guinea pig?” Two asks.

“Because you can probably survive higher doses of poison,” Five says, straight-faced.

Three points his fork at her. “No dessert,” he says.

Two snorts and takes a bite. “Holy shit,” she says. “This is delicious.”

Five tries a single noodle. “Wow,” she says, quickly taking a bigger scoop.

“Not bad,” Six admits. “Could use a few less breadcrumbs.”

“The breadcrumbs are the best part, heathen,” Three says, around a large mouthful of them.

Five nods agreement.

Android leans forward to serve herself after all, and the mess is unusually quiet as all they devour Three’s cooking.

Three looks ridiculously smug.

*

As soon as everyone’s done scraping the last cheesy deliciousness off their plates, Five asks, “So, what’s for dessert?”

“Pretty sure you lost your dessert privileges, kiddo,” Three says. “But for the _rest_ of us, there’s chocolate cake.”

Five sighs. “ _Fine_. I’m sorry I made fun of your cooking.”

“Apology accepted,” Three says. “You can have a _little_ piece.”

Two helps Three carry the dishes back out into the kitchen. Three takes a cake out of the fridge, on a pretty plate Two didn’t even know they owned, and hands it to her. She waits while he collects plates, forks, a long knife, and a -

“What is that?”

“It’s a cake-lifter,” Three says, holding the small spatula-like utensil up for her to see.

Two doesn’t know where to start: people need utensils specifically to lift cakes? The Raza kitchen has one? Three knows what it is?

Three apparently takes the incredulous look on her face to be asking that last question. “I know how to cook,” he says. “I remember. I mean, obviously I don’t remember making anything before, but I knew when the cake wasn’t ready, and not to put the icing on until it was cool. What the cake-lifter is called. Things like that.”

“You think you cooked for us?” Two asks, frowning. She definitely cannot picture the old Marcus Boone in a kitchen.

Three laughs. “Doubt it. I think it’s from when I was a kid. Five said I used to help my mom in the kitchen. Guess it stuck with me.”

“Lucky for us,” Two says. “Although - if you want, we could make a cooking schedule, or something.”

“Nah,” Three says. “I’ll abide by the rules of not it.”

“Good,” Two says. “Because this icing is _amazing_.”

“Get your fingers out of my cake, woman,” Three orders.


End file.
